


Boyfriend Like a Dad

by madalaena



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Daddy Kink, Domestic, Established Relationship, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mpreg, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madalaena/pseuds/madalaena
Summary: Mitch is standing on a stepladder in the middle of the kitchen when John gets home from practice. He's top-heavy and balancing precariously on his tiptoes and waving a feather duster around the top shelf of their cabinets.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/John Tavares
Comments: 16
Kudos: 212





	Boyfriend Like a Dad

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have any apologies for the punny title.

Mitch is standing on a stepladder in the middle of the kitchen when John gets home from practice. He's top-heavy and balancing precariously on his tiptoes and waving a feather duster around the top shelf of their cabinets.

John lurches toward him without thinking. "Mitch," he barks, grabbing Mitch's hips and holding on when Mitch jumps. "Baby. Um. What are you doing?"

Mitch spares him a quick glance, arm still outstretched as he sweeps around the shelf. John tightens his hold on his hips as Mitch wobbles ominously. He's wearing one of John's t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, and from this angle John can see how the shirt pulls out and away from his body, and the sweeping curve of his belly underneath. 

"You have no idea how much dust collects up here, John," he says, making one last aborted reach for a speck of dirt before he drops his hands in defeat. "No idea. When was the last time someone cleaned these. A year ago? Two, three? Our houses are killing us."

"Hmm," John agrees, filing this away for future reference so he can figure out which Instagram clean living account Mitch is back-reading out of boredom this week. With John ramping up his training as the season draws nearer and Mitch's activities becoming limited by his ever increasing size, he's taken to attempting various house projects, with moderate levels of success. "Why don't you come on down from there and I'll fix us up a snack?" 

"I'm not hungry," Mitch snaps, but he wobbles down the steps of the ladder anyway. John tries not to make it obvious that he's holding his breath the entire time, but it wooshes out of him when Mitch makes it to the floor without any missteps or tumbles. Mitch turns like he's going to sit down on one of the island barstools, but John catches him by his waist, pulling him back against his chest and kissing the sweaty curve of his neck where a series of fading bruises line the flexed tendon. 

It takes a moment but eventually Mitch relaxes, sighing softly when John palms his belly. Even the spikes of irritation edging his scent melt into something softer, pleased. 

"Hi," John murmurs, running his knuckles lightly over the stretched skin beneath his bellybutton. The baby kicks him and Mitch grunts. 

"You woke him up," Mitch accuses, bringing a hand to rest next to John's. The baby nudges again, gentler this time, like he's just saying hello. 

"Sorry," John says dutifully, even though he isn't. Mitch is thirty-two weeks pregnant and it's like John has a gravitational pull toward his belly.

"And you interrupted my cleaning project," Mitch continues, tilting his head to give John better access when he starts kissing down his neck. The refrigerator fan whirrs on and Mitch's throat clicks when he swallows. "I, um," he says. "I was-"

"Mmm," John says, the soft skin of Mitch's throat pulled between his lips. He sucks lightly, but Mitch's tender skin always reflects touch no matter how gentle. There are already lines on his belly from the baby. John likes to trace them with his fingertips when he's holding Mitch at night; they remind him of the ridged markings on the roadmaps his father used to collect. 

"Johnny," Mitch says, holding onto John's forearms.

John ends up fucking Mitch over the butcher block countertop, boxers caught around his ankles and shirt pulled up so John can watch his spine dip as he pushes into John's thrusts. Mitch has never been more hungry to be filled than he is so far during pregnancy. He's needy for John's cock. 

Mitch whimpers, socked foot slipping on the tile floor after a hard thrust. "Johnny," he whines, breathless when John steadies him with an arm around his belly. Then, softer: "Daddy. Daddy, please." 

John groans. He can feel his cock pulse inside Mitch. The whole kitchen smells like his pre-come and Mitch's sweet slick, the mint plant growing in a little pot next to the sink, and the tangle of heat and shame beneath Mitch's words. 

"Daddy's got you, sweetheart," John says, pulling Mitch back on his cock. There's so much slick it rolls down John's cock in rivulets. He gathers some on the pad of his finger and touches it to Mitch's plush lower lip. Mitch moans and meets John's finger with his tongue, tasting his own slick on John's skin. "There you go," John murmurs, gentle. "My good boy." 

The sounds Mitch makes echo off the vaulted ceilings. John can sense his embarrassment like he's feeling it himself but it just makes him cradle him closer to his chest and whisper further praise in his ear until Mitch clamps down on John's cock and spills over the cabinet face. 

"My good boy," John says again. "You're so sweet, baby boy. Gonna make me come, honey."

Before Mitch got pregnant, he used to beg John to come in him,  _ please Johnny _ ,  _ put a baby in him, please get him pregnant, daddy, please,  _ until his cheeks were damp with tears. He still craves John's come, because John is his alpha, because it's instinct, but now John can spread a hand across his belly and remind him that he did that, he knocked him up, he put a baby in him just like Mitch wanted. 

"Please, daddy," Mitch whines, leaning his weight back fully on John, head resting on his shoulder. The position doesn't allow for much movement, but John doesn't care. He wraps his arm low around Mitch's belly and rocks them both gently, careful not to dislodge himself. 

"Make it tight for me baby, just a little," John says, and Mitch whimpers. John knows it's intense. He brings his free hand up to cup Mitch's throat, thumb rubbing circles over one of the fading bruises there. Mitch's ass tightens around his cock. "There you go, Mitchy. That's it," John praises him softly. 

Mitch's hand flies up to grasp John's wrist. His breath comes in quick pulses, warm and sweet against John's cheek. There's slick leaking from his used asshole down the length of John's thighs and dripping into a puddle on the floor. After a moment, John realizes that Mitch is moaning, long and continuous.

"Mitch," John groans, and comes. Mitch grunts and clenches when he feels John spill inside him so his ass is nice and tight for John to fuck into. John knows it's too much sensation to feel good for Mitch, so he strokes down his side and cradles him close, pressing messy kisses against his hair and sweaty neck. "Honey," he keeps whispering into his skin as he kisses him. 

"Oh, fuck," Mitch says, wincing as John pulls out. John hushes him and rubs his back when he shifts forward, bracing his weight on the countertop. His heavy belly sways with his deep breaths. 

"Let me clean you up," John says, turning on the tap to warm and getting a soft clean rag off the counter. He wipes Mitch down gently, then guides him over so he can get his front. Mitch shivers when John cleans the come splattered over the bottom of his stomach. 

"I need a real shower," Mitch says when John tosses the rag away. 

John hums. "Go sit on the couch and I'll bring you something to eat first," he suggests. 

Mitch grumbles, pulling up his boxers. "I said I'm not hungry." 

"Well just eat what you want, then," John says. "We'll save the rest for later." 

"Fine, but the baby doesn't want that." Mitch nods his head at the plate of sliced apples, wheat crackers, and carrot sticks John sets down on the coffee table in front of him. 

John raises his eyebrows. "Oh?" he asks, sitting down so he can tug Mitch's feet into his lap and massage his puffy ankles. 

"No, he said he wants some fudge brownies or a cheeseburger."

"Those are two very different things," John points out. 

"Well maybe both, then," Mitch decides. "Maybe some of each."

"Where does the baby think he's getting these brownies and a cheeseburger, exactly?" John asks, digging his thumbs into the arch of Mitch's right foot. He moans, curling his toes when John does it with more pressure. "Surely he knows his mom won't be making them." 

Mitch scoffs. "Surely he knows his dad knows how to order out a fuckin' cheeseburger to the house," he says, digging into John's stomach with his toes. When John tries to get away, Mitch heaves himself up and throws a leg over his lap so he's straddling him. With his big belly between them it isn't the most natural position, but John loves it. He loves being able to press his hands all over Mitch and feel the baby's movements against his own body. 

"Got you," Mitch says, all pleased, leaning forward to nip John's cheek. It's no work for John to cup his jaw and ease him into a real kiss. Mitch moans when John opens his mouth and touches their tongues together. It fades into a giggle when the baby flips in his stomach and kicks hard enough for John to feel it. "Aw, he wants to hang out with you."

John puts both his hands on Mitch's stomach, pressing down lightly, and the baby kicks again. 

"Jeez," Mitch grunts. "Brutal meetup spot." 

John laughs, pushing Mitch's hair out of his face before he ducks to press a kiss to the top of his belly. When Mitch sighs softly, John pushes his shirt up to reveal his bare belly. 

"So beautiful, sweetheart," he murmurs. Mitch flushes. 

"JT, c'mon," he says, embarrassed. He tries to tug his shirt back down but John holds it in place. "Johnny," he whines. "I feel like I got so huge this week." 

John strokes the sides of Mitch's belly. "You look so good like this. I've had dreams about how good you would look like this." 

"C'mon," Mitch says again. John can smell the wetness starting to leak from him again. "You have not."

"I have," John tells him. "You think I haven't imagined you like this? Pregnant with my baby? You're beautiful, Mitch. I want to keep you like this."

Mitch’s eyes go glassy. John suddenly thinks they won’t be making it to that shower to clean up. “Yeah?” Mitch asks, moving the hand John has on his belly up to his chest. “Then I think you should try.” 

**Author's Note:**

> please come hang out with me where I talk about mitch having a daddy/pregnancy/impregnation/size/sugar daddy kink and/or cry about the size of his waist for 24 hours a day on twitter @ runphoebe1


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